


Punishment

by asexualshepard



Series: Broken Scopes [6]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, Grinding, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Making Out, Marking, Mild Smut, Punishment, Rough Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-18 08:13:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5911387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asexualshepard/pseuds/asexualshepard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Ethan jumps into a (nondescript) dangerous situation including Ferals, MacCready... isn't happy about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Punishment

**Author's Note:**

> Credit where credit is due. I’ve been struggling with words a lot recently, and I’ve drawn a lot of inspiration from [@losebetter](http://losebetter.tumblr.com/) and his stunning style of writing. He’s an absolutely amazing writer with a style I really, honestly admire to an incredible level, and he deserves a fair bit of recognition for this, I think. 
> 
> Definitely [go take a look at his fics and other forms of writing](http://losebetter.tumblr.com/tagged/bark:%20writing) because they truly are works of art, and I don’t think I’ve enjoyed any writing in the last few months as much as I’ve enjoyed his.

The barrel of Ethan’s shotgun is still smoking, the Feral at his feet still twitching, when MacCready grabs him by the straps of his combat armor and shoves him against one of the brick walls on either side of them. There’s not a second to breathe before Mac drags him down—not a second before the back panel of his armor scratches against the wall and his knees bend, before his hands reach out to try and find purchase along the bricks.

And then lips are against his, teeth digging into his skin. As MacCready’s hands press down his body, curl into the fabric of his flannel between the gaps in his armor, Ethan’s rise to wrap around the lapels of Mac’s duster. He lets his mouth drop open, moans when teeth drag over his tongue. And then there’s a knee pressing between his thighs, a hip against his cock, and his head involuntarily falls back against the wall.

“Oh, fuck, Mac,” he moans into the alleyway, fingers tightening on MacCready’s coat, teeth sinking into his bottom lip once the sound has escaped.

“I—can’t believe you,” Mac grumbles against Ethan’s throat, teeth scratching over one of the thick tendons hidden beneath his skin. “Can’t believe you’d be so—so damn stupid.”

Ethan chuckles through a gasp as he grinds himself down against MacCready’s knee. He’s about to mutter a joke, a snarky comment, when teeth dig into the skin beneath his jaw, knead and worry it until Ethan whimpers. Heat flushes through his cheeks, down his chest and into his pants as he realizes what MacCready is aiming to do.

“F-fuck! Shit, okay,” he gasps with a shudder, “if this is what you do when I’m stupid, I gotta—” A choked sound from the back of his tongue with a tail in the form of a whimper. “I gotta be stupid more often.”

MacCready growls, biting down on Ethan’s neck and toeing the line of painful but not quite reaching it. His tongue lathes over the spot a moment later, the tip flexing to draw circles around the tender skin, the flat of it smoothing soothingly. And then Mac’s lips are dragging across his throat, over his Adam’s apple and up to the underside of Ethan’s jaw, where the space behind his chin meets the skin of his neck. Eagerly, his head tips back, mouth wide.

Slowly, MacCready begins to nibble another mark into the softer skin, presses the length of his slim thigh upwards to apply pressure to Ethan’s dick, hardening behind the rough fabric of his jeans. The crown of Ethan’s head rolls over the bricks behind him, his hands try desperately to pull MacCready that small bit closer. But Mac’s hands have shifted to press against his stomach, to hold him against the wall, to take whatever control over the situation he may have had and throw it out the metaphorical window.

Another mark at the corner of his jaw. A fourth at the base of his throat. A fifth just beneath his ear. Seconds, minutes, hours pass, and Ethan is quaking, legs sore from being bent to support his weight, jaw quivering with every loud, soft sound that spills from behind his tonsils. Behind the zipper of his jeans, his cock is hard and sensitive. But the subtle friction of Mac’s leg—which only moves when Mac wants it to—isn’t enough.

“Mac, I-I need—” A sixth mark at the junction of Ethan’s neck and shoulder. “Holy fucking—please, I want you to—”

But Mac doesn’t let him finish. He pulls Ethan down by the collar of his flannel, slams his mouth to Ethan’s and kisses him hard, tongue smoothing over spit-slicked skin and the insides of Ethan’s cheeks. He’s breathless by the time Mac pulls off, and especially so when he removes himself from Ethan’s space completely. Ethan watches as he takes a step back, as his tongue pokes out to lick at his swollen lips and he readjusts his coat, blue eyes wide and glued to Ethan’s mirrored grey ones.

Ethan is waiting—for Mac to come back, for some article of clothing to be removed—but it’s completely in vain. Instead of doing something, anything, that Ethan might want, MacCready adjusts his cap and turns to grab his rifle from where he’d dropped it to the cobblestones beneath their feet.

“Mac?” Ethan breathes, hands once more grappling at the bricks behind him.

MacCready stands straight, shoulders rising and falling with his own heavy breathing, cheeks flushed and irises blown wide. “Next time—” He breaks off to clear his throat, to rid himself of the gravely tone of his voice. “Next time don’t be so, ah… don’t be such an idiot.”

And then it hits him—a _punishment_.

Ethan chokes back a moan at the realization, swallows heavily against the sounds building at the back of his throat. This—the kissing, the marks, the ache between Ethan’s thighs—is a punishment.

“You’re a goddamn miracle, MacCready.”

This just serves to make the blush on Mac’s face spread down his neck and beneath his scarf, to his chest where Ethan would—very much like to put his mouth.

“Well, uh,” Mac mumbles as one of his hands come up to rub over the back of his heated neck, “that’s… not the reaction I was expecting.”

Ethan’s legs shake as he pushes himself away from the wall, stands to his full height and fixes his collar, squeezes himself once through his pants to relieve the barest amount of pressure he can manage. And then his fingers rise to brush over the sensitive spots on his neck, to note the places MacCready’s teeth and lips and tongue had been moments before.

Ethan drags one of his stubbly nails across one of the marks briefly. “We should find someplace to bunker down for the night,” he says, eyes roaming over the length of MacCready’s far too clothed body. “Don’t wanna get caught with our pants down in the dark.”

MacCready’s groan echoes through the alley, and Ethan hopes—silently—that he’ll be punished for his awful sense of humor later.

**Author's Note:**

> This is coming off the back of a week-long bout of the worst writer's block I think I've ever had, but I'm... actually very happy with it. It felt good to write these two again.
> 
> Please forgive any glaring mistakes in grammar--it's almost midnight on a Thursday and I'm but a poor, exhausted student who wanted to write about one man making another weak at the knees.


End file.
